The Glory and the Dream
by Dark Rabbit
Summary: Set eight years after the events of The Avengers: Banished to earth, with his powers sealed, Loki turns to Dr. Doom for help, getting revenge against his brother Thor. Their plan: They will kidnap Thor's daughter, and exchange her soul for Doom's. Pairings are DoomxLoki, ThorxJane, and possibly LokixThor later on in the story.
1. A Fond Leave-Taking

"There was a time when meadow, grove, and stream,  
The earth, and every common sight,  
To me did seem  
Apparelled in celestial light,  
The glory and the freshness of a dream.  
It is not now as it hath been of yore; -  
Turn wheresoe'er I may,  
By night or day,  
The things which I have seen I now can see no more."  
– William Wordsworth

**_The Avengers_****, ****_Thor_****, and ****_The Fantastic Four_****, and all situations and characters thereof, belong strictly and solely to Marvel Comics. This is a fan-work, meant for enjoyment only, and not for any material profit.**

Mortals' spirits are strong, but their lives are short. They parcel out their time in fragments, brief moments to which they attach weighty names, an "hour", a "year", a "decade", as befits such fragile creatures. By this mortal measure, soon cometh the tenth "anniversary" of Thor's marriage to the Lady Jane. They live near where he first met her, in the city of Albuquerque, of the "state" of New Mexico, in the realm of Midgard, homeland of the mortals, and their temporary lives. One day he will be forced to acknowledge the temporariness of this life he now lives. Jane will not be his forever. She will die as all her kind die, and he will have to watch her die. His other friends here too, Dr. Erick Selvig, and the maiden Darcy, and The Avengers: All of them will meet their natural ends in a few more of their short decades. Well he must enjoy the time he spends with them now, Thor thinks, so he will be prepared for the heartbreak that is to follow.

Different birds waketh the Thunderer now, than did in Asgard, different trees nod outside his window, in the fair sunshine of his adopted home. This land of New Mexico is a dry place, a place of spiny things, a place of trees with narrow, almost golden leaves, and pale, transient flowers. It is a place of snows as well, of bitter winds, and cold nights, and snow like the delicate frosting of sugar on a cookie, that is here, and then it is gone, more temporary than anything else in this temporary realm. This snow is a welcome balm, after the heat of the summer, rather than the punishing onslaught that he remembers seeing in Jotunheimr. It makes sweet the invitation of his own fireside, and all the day long, while he does the work that he does here on Midgard, Thor thinks about returning there, to the arms of his lovely wife, and the sweet presence of his daughter Astrid.

Sweet Astrid is a joy, both to Thor and to her mother. Child of the gods, she is not a mortal, and yet she matures like one. Not so long ago, she was an infant; now, mere moments later as it feels to him, she is a child of school-going age, a hardy, clever little thing, who reads to him from the books she brings home, and asks questions he cannot answer. She reminds him... Well, she reminds him of his brother.

It is not that Astrid looks like Loki. Quite the contrary, she does not, but has instead, the sandy hair and green-brown eyes of her mother Jane. Her manner too, is not his, for she is easy-natured and ever-cheerful, a child who is used to finding a welcome wherever she goes, rather as Thor himself was when he was young. It is her intelligence, he thinks, that reminds him of Loki... That does not entirely describe it, for her mother, the Lady Jane is intelligent as well. – Then too, since coming to live here, he has been much in the presence of many who are very intelligent as well, of Erick, and Darcy, and his good friends Tony Stark and Bruce Banner, of The Avengers. – It comes close, though. Astrid reminds him of his brother, because of her intelligence.

Loki too, spent much time inside reading, whereas he himself would always rather have been outside and adventuring. He asked questions that could not be answered: Why are bilgesnipes scaly and I am not? If trees come from seeds, from whence cameth the seed for Yggdrassil? If a dwarf were giant-sized, would he still be a dwarf? And if a giant wore the mien of the Aesir, what would he be then, giant or Aesir? Questions that made no sense, and yet they nagged at the mind: Loki had the knack of asking such, and Astrid seems to have inherited this from him. But no, she can't have done, can she? For Loki is not a blood-relation. And she has never met him, for they are still estranged, he and his brother.

And therein, there is tragedy: Loki's rebellion, which began when he brought Frost Giants into Asgard, into the very fastness of Father's Treasure Vault, has not yet ended. He was banished for his actions on Midgard, when he allied with a foe from a distant star, and brought an alien army here, hoping to conquer. His magic was sealed, and he was sent back here to live among the mortals and as a mortal. Rather than learning from this and choosing to live his life more wisely, Loki has only grown more obdurate. He lives, so The Avengers have told Thor, in the company of one Victor von Doom, a mortal villain of surpassing evil, who makes his home in the mountain fastness of a land called Latveria, and ventures forth only to attack. As yet Thor knoweth not the purpose of Loki's association with this man, or whether his brother means evil because of it. He fears the worst, though, and he longs, as he has longed ever since the day of his own banishment to Midgard, only for there to be reconciliation between them.

* * *

Dawn breaks, on a beautiful morning in this land of New Mexico. Sunlight throws shadows of dancing leaves onto the wall opposite the bed, and the lovely, distinctive love-song that the wood dove sings to his mate, can be heard through the open window. The Lady Jane doth not yet stir, and Thor too would tarry a while longer yet, and hold her sleeping form close, but he knows he cannot.

Mother has communicated with him. The time groweth short, before Father must enter the Odinsleep, and he needs his son and heir there to assume the throne in his stead when he does. Thor must return to Asgard. He must return immediately, and, with no idea how long he will be gone for, he must either take his family with him, or risk being gone for much of Jane's short, mortal life. It could be a very daunting prospect, but Jane has taken it in stride. "You promised me a sight of the Einstein-Rosen Bridge," she said when Thor told her. "It's good to know that you keep your promises."

The Einstein-Rosen Bridge (for thus do mortals call the Bifrost) has been repaired, since Thor destroyed it to save Jotunheimr from Loki's attack. Once again stands Heimdall, staunch protector of Asgard, as travelers use it to move among the Nine Realms. Soon today, Thor will be one of these travelers. With the Lady Jane, he will use Mjolnir's power to bring them there, and Heimdall will open the gates of Asgard to them.

Astrid will remain behind, at Jane's edict. "She finishes school in two days," she said. "It's not as if we _knew_ how long we were going to be gone. If we weren't going to be back for years, that would be one thing. She could go to school in Asgard, or your mother could teach her, or however it works for Asgardian children. – We don't know, Thor. I want her to stay for the rest of First Grade, and say good-bye to her friends."

Dear Jane. Her advice is wise, as mortals view these things, however it may seem from the perspective of the Aesir. Looking now, at her sleeping head on the pillow next to his, Thor brushes the hair away from her face, and kisses her gently, taking care not to disturb her. She will wake in another hour or so, and that is soon enough for their return to Asgard. As for himself, he rises. Astrid is an early riser, and will be up already no doubt. He would spend time alone with his daughter, before he must leave her here.

Thor goes to the kitchen, the sweet scent of mesquite and mountain breezes following him, through the open window in the bedroom. Sure enough, Astrid is there, sitting at the table, with a bowl of the brightly-colored "Trix" that are her favorite breakfast food in front of her.

"Daddy!" She looks up at him with a smile. "Is Mommy up yet?"

"Not yet, dearest." Thor ruffles his daughter's hair, then bends to brush a kiss across her cheek before she can protest.

"Daddy!" Astrid puts up little hands to protect her head. "Don't mess up my hair!" It is true, she had already combed her hair (or tried to). She has fastened it back with the sparkly pink bow she loves best, and she is already dressed in a matching pink dress with a ruffled skirt. Astrid, Thor reflects, is a very organized child. Now she reaches up, as thought to push him away. "Go have breakfast," she says. "I made you coffee."

Coffee: A Midgardian beverage he has learned to love since being here. He is the one who taught Astrid to make it, once, merely for play, back when she still needed to stand on something to see above the counter. Since then it has become a tradition, for her to make it for him, and for him to drink a cup with her early in the morning, before Jane is up.

"You take such good care of me." He puts out his hand, but he cannot catch her unprepared again. This time Astrid's hands are spread out, protecting her sandy-brown bangs and long hair.

"Eat your breakfast, Daddy." She points to the box of Pop-Tarts she has set out. Pop-Tarts, Astrid is too young to remember, were a food that Jane shared with him the first time he was here. They were a joke the two shared when they were first married. Now their value is that they are easily prepared, by a little girl determined to mother her beloved "Daddy".

"Cherry flavor!" Thor opens the box and takes out a shiny, foil-wrapped package. "Truly, the breakfast of champions."

Astrid scoops the last cereal out of her bowl and looks up with a milky pout. "You don't have coffee yet."

"I was just pouring it." He finishes a Pop-Tart in three bites. His favorite cup as usual, is waiting by the coffee pot. As usual, two packets of Splenda stand at ready as well, and a spoon for stirring. "You are a good little mother," he tells Astrid. "Are you going to take care of Aunt Darcy like this, while Mommy and I are gone?"

"You'd better take me with you." She looks up, her woebegone frown only slightly marred by the Trix adhering to her lower lip. "I'm gonna worry about you, Daddy."

Thor sits down with her. "I will be safe in the Palace of All-Father.

"That's Odin, right?" Tidy Astrid, is already taking her bowl and spoon to the sink. She returns with a wet cloth, and wipes her place. "Grandpa Odin?" She giggles. "I'm gonna call him All-Grandpa when I see him."

"Your grandfather will be in the Odinsleep when you arrive, Astrid."

"I know." With her place clean, Astrid returns to sit with her father. "Cause I hafta stay here for two more days. – Is Aunt Darcy taking me to school?"

Darcy, the lovely, energetic girl who was assistant to Jane and Erik, when Thor first met them. Wisely, she left the field of Physics, which holds no deep interest for her, some years back, and finished her education in Political Science. Now she teaches at the University of New Mexico.

Thor nods. "She will. She is going to be here at 7:30 to take you. Be sure you're ready." It is an unnecessary admonition. Astrid is always ready.

Sure enough, his daughter nods. "I will be. I want to read my library book to Aunt Darcy before I have to return it today, and I'm gonna make her wear my Minnie Mouse bow to work." She looks at her father, her big eyes curious. "Daddy, have I ever been to Asgard before?"

"Once." He thinks about the journey seven years ago. The Bifrost not yet repaired, Father had to use the Tesseract to transport them. It was a brief journey, necessary because Loki had been making threats against them. ...Loki... Thor's heart twists as always, at the thought of his estrangement from his brother. Feeling newly tender, he bends and kisses Astrid. "You were just a baby," he says. "This time when you go, you'll remember it."

She nods. "I'm gonna look around, and I'm gonna remember everything. Uncle Erik has a book about Norse Mythology for me to read before I go. Aunt Darcy said she'd bring it." She looks at the clock. "You better go wake up Mommy, Daddy."

Thor wakes Jane. He brings her some of the coffee Astrid has made, and takes first turn in the shower so she will have time to wake fully. Soon enough, both of them are ready, Jane in the casual clothing Midgardians use for travel, he in full Asgardian garb, the first time he has dressed so in several years, and with Mjolnir at his side.

Astrid looks up from the book she is reading to Darcy. "Daddy, you're beautiful." She runs over and hugs him. "You should dress that way more often." Then she kisses her mother.

"Take good care of Aunt Darcy while we're gone," Jane says. She looks over at her friend. "And you know who to call if anything happens?"

Their list, an important precaution with Loki still estranged, still vengeful: Tony Stark and The Avengers head the list; Nick Fury, Director of SHIELD is next. Only after these, come the phone numbers that are on most Midgardian parents' lists, those for the police, the fire department, the hospital.

Darcy rolls her eyes. "Yes, Mommy." – Astrid giggles. – "Erik, if it's an unexplained phenomenon, Mr. Stark if it's something else... You sure you don't want to stay here, Jane? I'll go to Asgard with Thor instead, if you want."

"And see the Einstein-Rosen Bridge instead of me?" Jane chuckles and tosses her head, her beautiful sandy hair swinging. "Dream on, Darcy."

"A Bridge? Is that all this trip is to you?" "It's not fair that you get to see the Bridge first, Mommy!" Astrid and the Darcy speak at the same time, and their cheerful murmuring is just background-noise as he and Jane prepare for departure. Thor looks back at the two of them, sitting on the sofa together. His daughter is still so small, and the girl... – The woman, she is a woman now, albeit she still seems as girlish as she did the first time he met her. – ...The _woman_ with the glasses peering out from behind her messy brown curls and Astrid's Minnie Mouse bow o'ertopping it all, seems poor protection for her.

"I will return in two days." His daughter will not need protection surely, not in so short a time. "I will be there when you get out of school, Astrid. I'll be right outside your door."

"Wear your Asgardian-clothes, Daddy." She looks up at him completely untroubled. This is just one more sleepover with Aunt Darcy for her. As in fact, it is, is it not? There is no difference, just because he and Jane will not be in Midgard. Astrid giggles. "Kiara thinks she's so special cuz her Daddy's a fireman. Wait'll she sees you like that."

Jane laughs as well. "I can only imagine Mrs. Wong's reaction." She looks up at her husband. "Are we ready?"

"One more kiss." He spreads his free arm for Astrid to run to him. Once more he presses a kiss on that cheek, which is rosier than her mother's, her only physical resemblance to him. He looks over her head to Darcy, still on the sofa. "Take care of our baby."

"Don't worry." She beckons Astrid back. "You'd better hurry if you want to finish this book before school." His daughter turns away, and Thor watches until she is back on the sofa. He looks down into his wife's confident face. She has no qualms about this, nor should he.

"I've seen Mjolnir in action. Is it different when you open a gate?"

"Very different, come." They will leave from the small patch of grass outside the house, what Midgardians call "the front lawn". Thor draws his wife through the front door, with Darcy and Astrid calling good-byes as they leave. Once outside, he raises the hammer. Thunder growls, lightning begins to crackle. Thor feels a surge of excitement. It has been so long since he has had need fully to unleash this power. He hears his wife's soft laugh.

"I can't believe I'm really going to see this."

Then they are flying, and all distance is as nothing before them. Then the skies part, the rainbow sheen of the Bifrost is ahead. Oh, it has been too long, how has he stayed away from this for so long? Then they are hurtling forward, and the next sound he hears, is Heimdall's voice, calling hearty welcome.


	2. A Collaboration Proves Productive

The room – The whole palace, really. – is barely lit, candles and torches serving instead of more practical forms of illumination, despite the very serviceable generators, nuclear-powered, which he has built all over Latveria. The library is properly lit, and the laboratories. What matters the rest of the building? It is merely physical tasks that are done here. And it amuses him to have kept the traditional illumination used by the Barons, those corrupt nobles whom _he_ supplanted, whose intellect and strategy were no match for his. That it seems his guest (who calls himself "Laufeyson", though he is the son of Odin of Asgard) does not like it, matters not in the slightest to Doom. Loki "Laufeyson" seems to like very little at the moment.

His guest does not want to go outside. He does not read, despite Doom's extensive collection of both scientific and magical publications, surely, worthy of an Asgardian's attention. He does not want to join him in the laboratory. Nor will he consider the suggestion that he adopt armor similar to Doom's own, that will augment his power, until such time as they are successful in unleashing the magic his father has sealed.

"Magic comes from within." It is a foolish statement. Magic is power, and power comes from where it is found. What idiot can look upon power, from whatever source, and then turn away? Loki looks down at his hands. When he looks up, his face is drawn. "Worthless hands. There is nothing there."

"Of course not. Your father has sealed your powers." His _hands_ look completely normal (a testament to Odin's skill as a sorcerer). Doom knows that is the site of Odin's bond, only because Loki says so. He wonders, sometimes, if this is actual fact, or merely his guest's madness speaking. For Loki is certainly mad.

He is depressed to the point of immobility, still sunk in bitterness for his defeat at the hands of the Avengers, though that took place seven years previous. He thinks only of revenge, against his father, against his brother, against the Earth (or "Midgard", as he calls it), and all of Creation. As for how he is to get this revenge, without doing anything to bring it about? Sometimes Doom is almost ready to admit frustration at the lack of thought his guest had given to the problem.

"You are a mind first, and a body only second." It is what he has said to his guest, over and over, since he came to stay here; it is, you might say, his own credo.

And how often has he gotten the same answer: "You say that because you are mortal..." – Loki looking down, always, at his long, pale hands as he speaks. – "Your magic comes from outside. Mine is inborn, it is my birthright as a creature of Chaos."

It makes no sense. "You studied." Picture the Lord of Latveria trying, in vain, to get through to his depressed little princeling. – "You've told me how you studied. – You don't even like your Frost Giant heritage. Now you're going to tell me _that_ is what gave you your magic?"

It is though, apparently, however little sense that makes from a human perspective. Loki's response, always said in the lowest, and most depressed of voices: "I never realized until it was gone, until Odin had sealed it, and I knew what it is to be incomplete."

Useless, though tempting, to point out that Doom has lived with being incomplete his entire life. One gets used to it. It is a forge, to harden one's will, a goad, to drive one to even higher achievement. Now he skips directly to the next part of their conversation: "Where have you been, since you fell to Earth?"

Vaguely, always vaguely: "I've been around." A gesture (always the same gesture). "I've been living as a mortal." He asks it, – He cannot resist asking it. – despite the repetition, because he has been unable to get answers any other way. Doom, who has researched everything, has been unable to find information of Loki's whereabouts before he came to him. Was an Asgardian, powerless or not, really able to vanish into complete anonymity? What did he do? Where did he live? How did he manage to survive?

And then always, his last question: "Why did you come to me?"

Loki's answer varies. It comes, not as delivery of fact, but to suit some dark whim of his own. "I wanted to climb a mountain," he will say. Or, "I liked the idea of darkness and spiderwebs." "I wanted to see what the great Victor von Doom looks like, under his armor," he will say if he wants to be hurtful, although he must know by now that Doom is above such petty slights to his vanity.

It matters not at any rate, for Doom knows the answer. Loki came because he knew, as anyone must know, who has lived on Earth, that there exists only one man with the resources, and the implacable will, necessary to break a seal set by Odin All-Father. He came because he knew Doom could help him, and Doom will, at a price of his own choosing.

Comes now Doom, from his downstairs laboratories. His guest, he finds, as usual, sitting by himself and sulking. He looks up. – He is a live wire, drawn fine, tension crackling along every spare, beautiful inch of him. There is danger there, and mystery, but beyond that, it is the anger that overwhelms, and makes him Doom's to control. – "Your plans, how go they?"

"They go well." Loki is not interested in his plans. What matters the infiltration of the Presidency of the United States, or the carefully-planned destruction of credibility of his foes The Fantastic Four that will make it possible, to one who has commanded armies? What appeal is there to doing things by degrees, and in secret, for one who once stood before the nations of the world and ordered them to kneel? Loki is powerless, but he still thinks as one who has unimaginable power. He is weak, but he thinks as one whose strength would incinerate planets.

It matters not to Doom, whose plans will go well without the Trickster's assistance. He did not give Loki house-room because he wanted his help with these plans, but for the other, bigger plans that will be within both their grasp, when he has his full powers returned to him.

Loki turns a gaze, flat, indifferent, upon him. "A robot is not a human. You will fool no one."

There is a Doom-bot in the laboratory that would fool Loki now, were Doom to send it up here in his stead. They could sit down and eat together, carry on a conversation... "You know nothing about it."

Slight frown on the ivory face of the Trickster. "I know that you waste your time with small machinations, and the power to make all Midgard yours is still trapped inside me."

All Midgard. In other words, all of Earth. It would be laughable, coming from someone else in his weak, penniless position, but this is the man who fell through the Void, and still managed to command attention from Thanos. There is untold power, waiting in those pale, slim hands; there is untold potential, in that devious, Trickster's brain. Doom has not yet managed to free Loki from his father's seal, but that will come. Doom is patient, and he can be creative himself.

"Have you a new idea for breaking Odin's seal?" Doom pours, from the decanter on the table. Aged Tokay, from his own vineyard in Southern Latveria. He takes his usual seat, opposite the sofa that is almost Loki's home. "I haven't, and I am not interested in sitting idle, while you..." A quick glance at the Trickster reclining, idle himself. "...While you _cudgel your brain_."

That gets through to him a little. Doom sees Loki's eyes darken. He sits up some, from his reclining position on the sofa. "How would you have me to spend my time, Victor? Shall I follow you about like one of your Doom-bots? Would you like me to hold your wrench for you in the laboratory?"

He would "like" him to take an interest in other things, besides his sealed powers. It is a stupid man who relies only on one type of strategy. Loki is not stupid, but he has allowed his depression to make him so.

Doom sips, the wine cool, and lightly sweet on his tongue. "Your brother," he says. "How fares he?"

He has made a point of establishing a network of surveillance, especially so that Loki can keep track of his moronic brother. Photos, video, reportage of his every movement, all available with the touch of a few keys on the computer or for those like Loki, who refuse to acknowledge Twenty-First Century communication, in printed digest form, delivered daily.

Loki gestures, the latest communication lying in a heap of discarded pages on the coffee table. "He travels to Asgard. Father – _His_ father, is soon to enter the Odinsleep."

The Odinsleep, a magical stasis-state, during which Odin refreshes his power. Loki reigned as king, during the last Odinsleep, a fact he cannot seem to move past.

"Your brother is returning to Asgard?" This cannot possibly _not_ be of interest to him. "He'll leave the woman behind, perhaps? We can pay her a visit?"

A snort from Loki. "Thor is not such a fool."

"His friends." Doom searches his mind, throws up what suggestions he can find there. "We could wreak some small revenge upon them. Or his house: He could return to find it destroyed?"

Another snort. "I am not reduced to grasping at such crumbs."

Irritation floods. This is not _his_ job, to force amusement upon the indifferent Trickster. Doom is not a party-planner, even for Asgardians.

"The child." He tosses it out as last resort. They are truly down to the last crumbs of revenge, if they must resort to ruining a seven-year old's life. "She has friends who could be killed. – I'll have her school burned down while she is in Asgard, if it will amuse you, Loki."

A slight glance from the Trickster, and he knows he has given too much away. _If it will amuse you..._ He wants to amuse him. Once again, he has allowed Loki to seize control of the situation. The Asgardian looks in the direction of Doom's report. Then he looks back at him. He makes no effort to pick it up.

"Astrid." Impossible to describe the disdain, with which the name rolls from Loki's tongue. "My _niece_, so-called. _Beauty of the Gods._"

"Fine, he is proud of his child." Parents should be proud of their children. Once Doom had a father and a mother. They were proud of him. _And he has lived up to their pride and more beyond._ Doom gestures toward the heaped pages of the report. "I've seen the photographs. She is a pretty thing, as children go. No doubt she is well-mannered, possibly intelligent."

He looks at the report. The first page, and the second, have been disarranged. The rest lie folded, as they must have been when they came from the envelope. He feels a surge of irritation. So far the investment he has put into his connection with the Trickster has brought nothing. He begins to tire of wasting his own time, his own effort. Leaning past Loki, he snatches the folded report. "You haven't even read this."

A flare of green eyes, a nasty little smile. "Does that _bother_ you, Victor?"

Yes, it bothers him. When you are too lethargic to gather intelligence, is there anything left of you at all? Has he been giving house-room to a dead man... – To a man dead in the most important way, with his mind deadened beyond reparation... – all this time?

Doom flips through the pages. He could read this online. Most days, he has read the reports online, before the printed, digest-version arrives. It is only today, with the digitalized face-map of the President finally detailed enough that he can begin modeling, that he has not had time. He scans the first page. "They leave tomorrow, Thursday. – Why so quickly?"

"Father... – _All-Father_ – can sense the Odinsleep as it nears, but he cannot control when it comes upon him. I was there the last time." Loki's eyes darken with bitter remembrance. "It came on without warning, and he fell..."

"Fine, enough." Doom flips a page, takes a quick sip from his glass. "Your father wants his chosen heir by his side. – And don't start in again about who should, and should not be on the throne. You are Loki Silvertongue. You would be at Odin's side and his most trusted adviser, if you put decent effort into it." – He reads. "Thor, the woman... Loki, you saw where the child is not going with them?"

He didn't. For once, in all the time since Doom has given house-room to him, he has the satisfaction of seeing the Trickster surprised. "Not going?" Loki snatches for the report, once so despised.

Doom holds it just past his reach and continues to read. "She is to remain in New Mexico until Friday afternoon, when her parents will return to fetch her."

Light flares in Loki's eyes. He sits up straighter, and he smiles. "Why does she not return with her parents?"

"School." Doom gestures with the report. "Americans schedule a long vacation this time of year. Your brother wants her to remain until the vacation starts."

Inevitable, the response: "Thor is not my brother." Followed by contemptuous comment: "He is Midgardian through and through. And yet still, he has All-Father's ear..."

"Because you can't be bothered to make proper use of your persuasive powers, Loki. And you the Liesmith, so-called..."

The light shuts off in his eyes. "Father has no love for me. He never did."

And there it is again, the depression that immobilizes him, almost beyond use. Doom suppresses a sigh. He returns to the report, reads. "This woman..." Looking up, a page or two later. "This Darcy Lewis. Who is she?"

Indifferent words from the Trickster: "A friend. I saw her once. She is gullible, but defensive."

"Would she protect the girl effectively?"

The Trickster looks up. "What do you have in mind, Victor?"

Doom snorts. "If we take the girl, will she fight to protect her?"

"Take the girl..." Loki's face goes thoughtful, dreamy. He sits up. "Imagine my dear brother's shock, his distress..." He looks at Doom. "We'll kill the woman and take her."

A pleasure to see him alert for once. "We'll leave her alive. She'll go to your brother. Think of his distress."

Loki snorts. "Think of the warriors... – What do you call them here? The 'police'? – They will come after us."

"Latveria is a sovereign country. No one may enter without my express permission."

Loki rolls over, stretching his lean body elegantly, like a cat flexing. He smiles up at Doom. This has piqued his interest, and for once, finally, he looks fully alive. "Then you are telling me we will bring her here? To this bleak hole of a castle that you call home?"

"Sensuality is a distraction. My castle..."

"Shhh..." Devious life flares in Trickster-eyes. Doom has seen footage of his appearance in Stuttgart, the casual, almost balletic swing with which he knocked out the guard, and the merciless attack that followed. This is _that_ Loki, he thinks. Finally, this alliance is bearing fruit. "We will bring her here," Loki continues. "It will be an education, for her to get to know her 'Uncle Loki'. – But Thor cannot come get her. As long as Father is in the Odinsleep, he must remain in Asgard. It will be the woman Jane... No, not her, for how can she leave Asgard without my brother's help? ...The other one, what is her name? Darcy? She will come here." He gestures. "To your so well-defended little kingdom. - She will not come alone, Victor."

"She will bring someone." This plan grows more appealing, the more Doom thinks about it. "One of the meddlers calling themselves super-heroes... – We will be ready for them, Loki."

"Super-heroes?" Loki gives a short laugh. "The Avengers? 'Earth's mightiest heroes', so-called?"

"Them, or possibly another." It is too much to ask, but dare he hope perhaps, that she will bring the Fantastic Four, thus precipitating the confrontation he has sought, with the accursed Richards?

"...Have you seen the child?" At first, Loki's words barely penetrate.

"The child? Of course I have seen her." His dismissive answer. "I'm not the one who has been ignoring the reports. - She seems normal enough for a child her age."

"Normal?" Loki's response, teasing in tone. "Would that be normal for a Midgardian, Victor? But she is not fully Midgardian."

She is not... Doom looks at Loki. There is something on his mind. Doom will not wait around to be told what it is. "You speak of her father?"

"Of my brother, yes," Loki says, "Have you thought much ...about immortality, Victor?"

"Of course. Who has not?" It is the chance to secure everything he has accomplished... – To _extend_ it. For now he controls Latveria, and makes of it what he will, but with more time, with time unlimited by the constraints of a human lifespan, could he not spread that control? Could he perhaps, reign over all the Earth, as he now does over his homeland?

The girl's father... Doom has not thought before about the significance of his being a god... But her mother is mortal; she could as easily take after her. "Have you evidence, Loki?" In spite of himself, there is eagerness in his voice. Doom would not betray himself so easily before the Trickster, but his body is disloyal. "What proof is there, that she is immortal?"

Loki for his part, seems to feed off his ally's discomfort. His smile is broader now, as he looks at Doom, his eyes are more fully alive. "Oh, _evidence_." His voice is a purr. "I have none, as you well know, Victor. Were there _evidence_, I am very sure you would have found it by now. Did you not suggest snatching her regardless though? At worst, will we not throw my dear brother and his family into panic as originally planned? – Into helpless panic, since he cannot leave Asgard while Father sleeps? – At best though, oh at best, this will be one of those deals you love so much, Victor. You stand to profit, and mightily. – You have studied the magic of soul-transfer, didn't you tell me that you had?"

"There are few things I have not studied." Doom looks away. His mind is on the prospect before them. The girl is perfect... Should she be in fact, immortal, as Loki suggests, she is perfect. His glance flicks to his ally. Loki's wish is to see his brother ruined, reduced to tears and hopeless despair. Giving him back a daughter who is not his daughter, who is in fact, the so-dreaded Dr. Doom, or... He cannot be thinking of giving him back the girl's soul, in Doom's body? His lips twitch. It is an amusing thought.

"Trickster, your schemes are genius." Doom can be generous when the occasion arises. "We will take her... – There needs to be time to prepare the magic. For how long, does your father usually sleep?"

"It can vary." Loki lowers his eyes, thoughtful. "A day or two, or a week in Asgardian time... – That is longer by Midgardian time, of course."

"Longer? How much longer?"

Loki stretches again, his movements, his entire mien, infused now, with confidence. "Oh, as to that, I have no idea. How long do you need for the transfer?"

How long? It is not a spell that he has done before, though he has researched it. "I need a hypnotic connection with the subject," Doom says. "Once that is established, the procedure itself goes quickly."

"A connection? You need to make _friends_ with the girl in other words?" Loki chuckles. "Oh, that will be funny. The great Dr. Doom, playing nanny to my brother's brat. I could sell tickets. How many of your subjects, Victor, would give their eyeteeth to see that? – You do allow them to have eyeteeth, do you not?"

Loki is humorous. Doom for his part though, plays with the idea: How difficult could it be, really, to establish a connection with a small child? One indulges them, gives in to a few of their demands... After that, they are yours, is that not how it works? No, he thinks, that will be easy. The difficult part will be to keep her pacified, while he repels whatever force is sent to liberate her, for during that time, he will not be able to work with her. He will have to rely on Loki, and his ally has not shown much fondness for the child as yet.

Doom looks at him. "You will need to be careful with the girl."

Loki, midway through another joke at his expense, looks back. "With the girl, Victor? What do you mean?"

"With my vessel." Under his mask, Doom smiles. "When the attack comes, I mean. When whatever idiots come that are going to come, to try and free her, and I am kept busy dealing with them: You, Trickster, will have to be sure she is not harmed."

Left unspoken for the moment: Loki must not harm her himself. This, Doom thinks, will be the most difficult thing to ensure.


End file.
